


What the Fuck is Wrong With This Planet?

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5589424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy and Sif discuss what the fuck is wrong with Earth, baseball, and Steve Rogers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Fuck is Wrong With This Planet?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for northeastern-wind on tumblr for the prompt, "Would you do a ficlet of Darcy being good at something athletic?"

Darcy has been standing in front of the mirror of the sad, sad closet that Jane calls a bathroom for at least twenty minutes trying to figure out when a baseball hat and jeans stopped looking fucking amazing and started looking like she’d been taken over by an impostor.

Steve has been waiting on her for at least ten minutes out in the sad, sad closet that Jane calls a living room.

She’s standing in front of the mirror for so long that there is a knock at the door.

“Hey! Trying to get dressed here.”

“You have been trying to get dressed for longer than our dearly departed queen and all of her maidens would have taken for the Great Beginning Celebration,” Sif informs her from the other side of the door. “And impressive as he might be, Captain Rogers is not that important.”

“Hey! He could be. To /us./”

There is a pause - Darcy’s been working on reading Asgardian pauses, what with Sif and Thor both spending so much time around Jane these days, and she loosely translates that one to “what the fuck is wrong with this planet?”

“That would be a bizarre and inappropriate amount of affection to give to one man,” Sif says finally.

Darcy opens the door and glares at Sif with all of the pent-up fury that is appropriate to misplaced frustration. “Have you noticed the amount of affection you give to Odin?”

Sif shrugs. “Steve Rogers is not the All Father. Besides, it is not Asgardian rituals giving you trouble at the moment.”

The thing about Sif is that she doesn’t have a whole lot of tolerance for bullshit. It’s both incredibly refreshing and incredibly frustrating, depending on the particular situation and day of the week.

Right now, it’s a little of both.

“You’re right,” Darcy agrees reluctantly. “It’s a very _Midgardian_ , very American ritual.”

“Baseball.” The word sounds distant and untrusted on Sif’s tongue, and it sounds as unfamiliar as the outfit feels on Darcy.

Which is bullshit, because Darcy spent her entire teenage years running around in the exact same attire that she has on right now. It might as well have been her uniform… or costume.

“Yeah, that’s the ball, alright. Can’t imagine you’ve seen it, given that Thor and Jane are your two companions the majority of the time.”

Sif shrugs. “I have other … friends.” She smiles, and Darcy allows herself the moment to be freaked out about the fact that her other “friends” include some of the most deadly Agents the maybe-not-defunct SHIELD has ever had. “I have watched your baseball. Your football is more exciting. Not as exciting as your hockey, though.”

“I’m American; I don’t get to claim hockey,” Darcy jokes.

It’s a good joke, she thinks. Too bad Sif just looks at her in confusion.

“Never mind,” Darcy says. “It wasn’t that important.”

“Perhaps not. But it /is/ important that you are going to cause both you and Captain Rogers to be late for your nephew’s game,” Sif points out. “While his sparring with Thor has been very entertaining for Lady Jane and myself - ”

“Okay, Steve and Thor sparring is entertaining for anyone, but also? This is why I have issues throwing on pair of jeans and a baseball cap. That’s normal. This life? Not so much with the normal.” Darcy leaned into the doorway and let out a frustrated sign. “I feel like an impostor in these clothes, which is ridiculous.”

Sif nods slowly. “I have heard that you were the best … softball player your high school has ever seen. Softball is … like baseball, but not quite, yes?”

“Yeah, not quite. It’s better,” Darcy says, because she’ll take a team of softball players over her brother or nephew’s team any day, thank you.

“It has to be. To make up for the sexist division of genders that your world has used to force the sport into being,” Sif retorts.

Sif might not be quite as muscley as Thor, but she might be Darcy’s favorite Asgardian.

“As for your other issue…” Sif shrugs. “On Asgard our warriors are expected to dance at the balls and be able to march in their armor towards victory. If they can do that, surely you can wage wars at Lady Jane’s side and also attend baseball games.”

The talk is over then, because Sif decides when her discussions are over.

The talk doesn’t make Darcy feel better, precisely.

But on the upswing, at least there isn’t going to be dancing, Darcy thinks as she pulls her cap down a little more snugly and goes out to meet her date.


End file.
